Wild cultivation begins with wielding the Taiyin talisman.

Night fell upon the old medicine warehouse.

Ning Che stood in the courtyard, holding a knife in his left hand, assuming a fighting stance.

It seems that he has an exceptional talent for swordsmanship, because even with only his left arm remaining, he doesn't feel much difficulty wielding it. He wields the sword with ease and can attack from angles that are not commonly used, which gives him a unique style.

A decrease in strength was inevitable, but the losses were much smaller than he had imagined, probably only by about 10% or 20%.

Because he still had the insights gained from that previous strike, his overall strength was actually much greater than before he lost his right arm.

As for exactly how much stronger...

"Lin Ye—" he called out.

"What do you want?" Lin Ye's tone was very impolite, but he still walked over quickly.

Ning Che sheathed his sword and looked up at him.

"Play a few moves with me."

Lin Ye paused for a moment, then looked Ning Che up and down, his gaze finally settling on the withered right arm, unable to look away.

"Have you lost your mind?"

He clicked his tongue, deliberately feigning disdain: "Your arm was only injured a few days ago, and you haven't even cleaned up the mess in your spinal cord yet, and you want to compete with me?"

I'm an eighth-rank official, you're a ninth-rank official, and you're missing an arm—what's the point of me winning? If word gets out, people will gossip about me behind my back, saying Lin Ye bullied a cripple.

That's what he said, but his hand was already on the hilt of the thick-backed sword at his waist.

His fingers gripped the hilt of the knife, rubbing it gently.

From the first day he entered the camp, he had been holding his breath. In the Black Pine Forest, Ning Che, with his ninth-rank strength, fought against an eighth-rank demon; in the Rat Swamp, he single-handedly killed four eighth-rank rat demons—he never admitted it, but his body betrayed him; every time he saw Ning Che draw his sword, he gritted his teeth.

It wasn't jealousy; he just wanted to win.

Now that Ning Che has lost his right arm and his cultivation level is a rank lower than his, this is logically the best opportunity. But he's also afraid that even if he wins, it will be a humiliating victory, and he'll look down on himself afterwards.

Ning Che saw right through his little scheme and spoke in a flat tone, as if he were just saying that the weather was nice today.

"No need to hold back, just go all out. If you beat me, you'll be the real team leader from now on, and the order of missions and task assignments will all be yours to decide."

Lin Ye's eyes darted around.

Is that really true?

"really."

"No taking it back?"

"No regrets."

"Fine, if I beat you, you can arrange all this. But you have to call me Captain!"

Ning Che loosened his grip on the Crescent Moon Blade slightly, his lips twitched, and he nodded decisively: "Okay. As long as you can win."

Lin Ye was a fearless person by nature, and the desire to beat Ning Che had been brewing in his heart for more than a day or two, so he stopped being coy.

"You said it! You can't cheat if you lose!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the first burst of crimson blood energy surged up his right arm, staining his fist crimson.

Then came the second course, the third course...

Blood and qi swelled up in layers, enveloping his arms, waist, abdomen, and legs.

Until the eighth burst of blood energy surged from the top of his head, swirling into a crimson halo above his head, every muscle in Lin Ye's body was stretched to its limit, and a crack silently appeared in the stone slab beneath his feet.

Zhao He carried the bowl of medicine to the porch, glanced at the scene in the courtyard, and silently retreated back into the house, closing the door behind him.

"Let me be clear from the start," Lin Ye said in a low voice, "I can't fully control the power of this move yet, so don't hurt yourself."

Ning Che stood three zhang away, the Crescent Moon Blade held diagonally in his left hand with the tip pointing downwards, his right arm hanging limply at his sides. His relaxed posture showed no sign of preparing for battle.

Lin Ye frowned.

Those who practice swordsmanship know that this stance is called "a wide-open defense." It's either foolish or shows a complete disregard for the opponent.

Ning Che is not stupid.

"Take this!"

The stone slab beneath Lin Ye's feet shattered with a crash, and he leaped out of the ground, his right fist, wrapped in the first three streams of blood energy, hurtling through the wind with immense force, heading straight for Ning Che's heart.

This punch was completely devoid of any fancy moves.

The fist's force sealed off all escape routes to the left and right, aiming to overwhelm Ning Che with sheer power and force him to use his sword to block.

He calculated it clearly—Ning Che only had his left arm left, and no matter how skilled his swordsmanship was, he couldn't withstand the immense force of three combined bursts of blood energy. As long as he could numb Ning Che's wrist, he would win this round.

But his fist missed its mark.

Ning Che lightly stepped to the side, shifting his body half an inch to the side.

Just half an inch.

The force of the punch grazed past the hem of his clothes, and the crescent-shaped blade flipped slowly, the back of the blade striking the weakest point of the punch.

A surge of skillful force rushed up the fist.

It wasn't a head-on collision, but a gentle deflection in the direction of his punch—Lin Ye's wrist went numb, his powerful punch missed its mark, and he staggered forward half a step, his blood and energy momentarily stagnating.

"That's it?" Ning Che's voice came from beside him.

Lin Ye's hair stood on end.

It wasn't out of fear. It was because he clearly felt that Ning Che had been able to cleave his neck with that last strike. Using the back of the blade to strike his fist was a sign of mercy.

"you--"

Lin Ye was both shocked and furious. The moment he regained his footing, he activated all five remaining streams of blood energy.

Eight streaks of crimson blood energy enveloped his entire body as he unleashed a barrage of punches, the shadows of his fists overlapping and the explosive sounds of air being torn apart creating a continuous chorus. This was followed by a sweeping whip kick, the blood energy on his leg almost solidifying, sealing off all possible space for Ning Che to dodge.

This is his most treasured possession.

The eight streams of blood and qi merged into one, unleashing punches and kicks simultaneously, leaving no room for error.

He didn't go for the kill; his punches and kicks were slightly off-target, aimed at Ning Che's blade. But the force was real, forcing Ning Che step by step to the base of the courtyard wall, where he had nowhere to retreat.

The bluestone slabs were torn apart layer by layer by the force of the punch, and medicinal herbs flew up with their roots, scattering everywhere.

Old Qian poked his head out again, saw the medicinal herbs flying all over the yard, his lips twitched, and he withdrew back.

Ning Che did not back down.

They didn't retreat even a single step.

The pace of the cicada-catching technique suddenly quickened, his figure weaving left and right through the impenetrable shadows of fists and kicks, his steps fragmented and swift, each step landing precisely in the gaps between the fists. The Crescent Moon Blade twirled in his left hand, its blade gleaming coldly, each rise and fall striking the very points where Lin Ye's blood and energy circulated.

The first knife.

The blade sliced ​​diagonally, scattering the two outermost streaks of blood energy on the fist, slightly weakening the powerful punch.

Lin Ye was about to withdraw his hand to defend, but Ning Che's movements were too fast, and the second strike had already arrived.

The back of the knife flicked upwards, striking the back of his knee in a whip kick—an extremely tricky spot, hitting the joint directly and dissipating his force.

Lin Ye's heart skipped a beat. Before he could make any effective response, the third stab came.

The blade spun horizontally, cutting in as he pulled back his fist.

The cold back of the knife rested on her neck.

Location of the major arteries.

The whole process took no more than three breaths.

The blood and qi have dissipated.

Lin Ye froze on the spot, still in his punching stance, all his muscles tense, afraid to move. He didn't even see how Ning Che passed through the shadow of the fist.